Camera Shy
by Joanna Grant
Summary: Summary: Companion piece to "In A Plain Brown Wrapper" and "Sexplotation". Logan accepts Olivia's offer and now he's finding it's not quite as easy to pose as he thought it would be.


Title: Camera Shy

Author: Karen

Email:

Rating: R

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Marvel, Fox, yada, yada, yada.

Archive Rights: All the usual places.

Summary: Companion piece to "In A Plain Brown Wrapper" and "Sexplotation". Logan accepts Olivia's offer and now he's finding it's not quite as easy to pose as he thought it would be.

Author's note: Although the character of Olivia Deveraux was created for this story, Nicole Caldwell was the editor-in-chief of "Playgirl" magazine before it ceased production in January of 2009. The website is still on-line though – and O'Malley the bartender would be amused to know that it mainly caters to gay men.

Thanks and air kisses to my beta extraordinaire – Taryn.

Logan felt foolish sneaking out of the house. He was a grown man – not some mischievous teenager hellbent on getting into trouble. But anytime he was leaving the mansion Scott, or someone almost equally nosy, would practically interrogate him about his destination. Once he made the mistake of jokingly suggesting to Jubilee that she lo-jack his bike and wasn't too amused when he discovered she'd actually had John attach one to the Harley. He removed the device and affixed it to the Professor's wheelchair instead. So, because he didn't feel like divulging his plans this time, he found himself slipping out while everyone was still sleeping – and rolling his bike down the driveway. It wasn't until he was on the road that he realized he'd arrive in Manhattan a couple of hours before he was scheduled to be at the 'Playgirl' office. He tried to think of someone friendly who lived in the city – but unfortunately for him, women like that wouldn't be on the streets until after dark. Arriving in the city, he pulled up to a Starbucks and settled for getting a cup of coffee.

Far from being a patient man, Logan was irritated that he'd been kept waiting in the lobby for over half an hour. When Olivia finally deigned to make an appearance, he reconsidered his decision not to bother attempting to get her into bed. Jean had determinedly stayed loyal to Scott – and while he'd been perplexed by the constant rejection, he did have to admire her faithfulness. So if Olivia's initial bitchiness wasn't her usual persona, maybe he'd get his redhead 'fix' after all. Although most recently his preference had leaned toward brunettes. However, if anyone asked, he wouldn't willingly admit whom they were substituting for.

He'd met her in one of those dives that Ms. Deveraux held such distain for – although technically Marie wasn't there by choice. Now she was safely ensconced at Xavier's and dating the Popsicle – until she was nice and legal so Scott wouldn't throw a conniption fit. Plus Logan needed to prove to himself that he was worthy of her – so he kept himself distracted with women who weren't looking for anything beyond a quick tumble. His longest 'relationship' since meeting Marie had lasted through Egg McMuffins the next morning. And that was just how he liked it. If there was a notion that women were seeking their princes, then Logan had found his princess – now he just had to get the approval of King Charles of Xavier and his heir apparent Prince Tight of Ass.

As he'd never actually ever seen an issue of the magazine – not even a curious peek after he'd been approached to pose, Logan wasn't sure what to expect but even he was surprised by the cheap-looking set. He was also mildly insulted.

"This looks like one of those motels that charges by the hour and changes the linens on a monthly basis," he said.

"Well, I doubt anyone would believe you live in a penthouse in New York," Olivia stated – noting Logan's faded jeans, plain white t-shirt and weather-beaten leather jacket ensemble.

"For your information, I live in a mansion in Westchester," he told her – hoping that would knock her snobby attitude down a peg or two.

"House sitting?" she replied sarcastically.

"I'm glad I didn't fuck you that night," he told her through clenched teeth.

"Like you ever had a chance," she said with amusement.

"I'd let him fuck me," the photographer's assistant announced as she passed by.

"Don't be too flattered," Olivia warned, "Her nickname is 'the welcome wagon' because she'll screw anyone who walks through our doors."

"Gee, just my kind of broad … mind if I take a break," Logan asked.

"Screw … whatever you want on your own time."

"You're a real bitch, ya know?" She was starting to piss him off.

Olivia just let out a bemused sigh and rolled her eyes. "Why, because I didn't fall over onto my back with my legs in the air at the mere sight of you?" she asked, "Here's some advise. Try a different opening line; because slightly different variations of 'do you wanna fuck?' only works on bimbos who think the fleabag motels you patronize are the Four Seasons compared to where they actually live."

"You don't think I could attract a classy broad?" he challenged.

"First of all … classy women won't respond to being referred to as broads. And second … no, I don't see you with someone who doesn't live in a trailer."

"It could happen," he said bitterly.

"I didn't peg you for an optimist," she replied wryly.

With Jean constantly rebuffing him – and now Olivia, he was seriously starting to sour on redheads. But maybe she did have a point; he'd have to reluctantly concede. The only women he'd hooked up with – over the last fifteen years that he could remember – weren't exactly the kind who'd know how to act in a fine restaurant. Or even own the appropriate outfit to wear to such an establishment. Of course, he couldn't meet the dress-code requirement either. Olivia had him pegged and it stung.

"If you have such a problem with me, then why bother at all?" he demanded.

"Look, Logan, I'm going to give you a reality check," she said, "I went to that hole because I was looking for a certain type. I'm not likely to find our next playmate in an office on Wall Street. Besides, your look is what appeals to our target audience of sexually frustrated housewives and …" She hesitated, thinking he might not be okay with knowing that gay men would be leering at him too, so instead she covered by saying, "women incarcerated in a correctional facility."

"So, women whose husbands don't know how to fuck them or don't fuck them at all and women who don't have access to a dick."

Before Olivia had a chance to offer a snarky retort, a willowy blonde approached and said, "She's just teasing. Right, Liv?"

"Sure, Nic," Olivia acknowledged.

"Nicole Caldwell, Editor-in-Chief," the blonde introduced herself, holding her hand out to Logan and favoring him with a smile.

"Logan," he offered as he took her hand and shook it gently but firmly.

"I was just …" Olivia began.

"Leaving," Nicole suggested as an end to that sentence – and punctuated it with a decidedly icy glare at her subordinate.

Taking the hint, Olivia mumbled a hasty goodbye and made herself scarce.

"Thanks," Logan said simply.

"No problem," Nicole said, "Did you hit on her?"

Holding up his thumb and first finger in a 'small pinch' motion, he said, "A little bit."

"And she rejected you – and then got bitchy?"

Logan just nodded.

"She has a bit of a problem with men," Nicole told him, "As in, she doesn't like them … at all."

It took Logan a moment to catch exactly what she meant. "Oh," is all he finally said.

"Don't get me wrong," she continued, "Olivia is very good at her job. She instinctively knows the current fantasies of our readers – even though her personal tastes lie elsewhere – and always manages to find just the right guy."

"The King of the Trailer Park," he said with a more than just a trace of bitterness. He was disheartened with women like Olivia and Jean looking down on him as if he weren't worthy of being treated the same as men like Scott. While he didn't have a Harvard education or a closet filled with neatly pressed pants and starched button-down shirts, he still deserved to be afforded a modicum of respect.

Instinctively Nicole placed her hand gently on his arm and said, "The cop and firefighter fantasies are passé and women don't want overly primped guys in business suits either. They want someone who looks like he could protect them all day and make wild, passionate love all night. In other words … you."

His confidence restored, Logan smiled. "I can see why you're the boss."

"Speaking of boss duties, I have to get back to my office," and then indicating someone with a camera around her neck, she said, "But I'm leaving you in good hands."

"Lucy Davenport," the photographer introduced herself. She was short and round with a head of untamed brown curls and a warm, genuine smile. He liked her immediately.

"About this …" he said, waving his hand in the direction of the bedroom set.

"Tacky, isn't it?" Lucy interrupted knowingly, "Olivia's brilliant idea."

"That figures."

"Don't worry, we'll make it work," she reassured him – although he didn't see how she could make what appeared to be a complete dump look even halfway decent.

While Logan was being prepped by the hair and make-up artists, Lucy instructed the stylist to replace the bedding and bring in a few accessories. But after an hour of arranging and rearranging the basic set really didn't look a whole lot better. She grimaced and shrugged in resignation.

"I'll try and focus on just you and crop out as much of the background as I can," she offered in compromise when Logan returned to the set.

"I trust you," he said genuinely – even though he was resigned to ending up looking more like a slum dweller than mansion owner. He may have defensively told Olivia that he lived in a fancy house, but in truth – it was someone else's fabulous home and he was merely a permanent guest. If he used some of the photo shoot money to get his own place, it would be a far step down from his current residence. In fact, it would probably look a whole lot like the motel-by-the-hour set that was so insulting to him.

Lucy mistook Logan's sadness for nervousness, so she asked him what she could do to help calm his nerves.

Bouncing back a little, with a naughty grin and a lift of one eyebrow, he asked, "Do I get a fluffer?"

She broke out into a hearty laugh, slapped him on the arm and said, "This isn't a porno."

"So that's a 'no'?"

Lucy's assistant moved to raise her hand. "Forget it, Jill."

Looking mildly disappointed at continuously being thwarted, Jill shrugged and moved off to check the equipment.

"Okay, cutie, time to lose the robe," Lucy announced.

It was as if the temperature in the room had abruptly dipped below freezing and Logan moved to wrap the robe tighter instead of dropping it as instructed. He'd never had a problem with nudity before – at least he thought he hadn't – but faced with the prospect of being completely bare while everyone else remained fully clothed caused his usual bravado to abandon him. It didn't help when he noticed that Jill and a few of the others were watching him expectantly. Fighting in the cage half naked had seemed like good practice for something like this – but apparently it wasn't, as he suddenly developed a severe case of stage fright. He chastised himself, but that didn't precipitate him to actually disrobe. Even though Rogue's lame little boyfriend Popsicle wasn't in the vicinity, he was still frozen to the spot nonetheless. Although he did wish that Storm was here so that she could hit him with a bolt of lightening. Anything to delay the inevitable.

It took a whole bottle of valium with a case of Molson's as a chaser for Logan to relax enough, but eventually Lucy got what she thought were the best photos of her career …and a star was born.


End file.
